Well, this one comes in a corked and caged demi; you know, that format I swore to never buy in again. But it sounded really good, and only cost $8 or $9 for a 13oz bottle! Ha; 'only'! It certainly does skew my perception of value. But on paper, this looks like something I'll really enjoy, so I accept the expense.
The beverage is difficult to smell, due mainly to the fan I have positioned roughly 18 inches from my face, due to the fact that Portland this summer is hot, on the order of Satan's scrotum. (How do I capitalize this? One 's'? Neither 's'? Both 's's? How do I pluralize 's'?). My brain can't think in the heat, and I can't convince the frigid, conditioned living room air to waft into my room, since neither fan that I mail-ordered has arrived, likely on account of the orders are all backed up on account of everybody and their mother wants fans now, and come winter, we'll all want storage space to hold them, and you'll be able to barter a useless space heater (which I also have) for three of 'em. Now one of these fans, I tried to go to the store to get, but they were out of stock. The next day when I looked online, they claimed they were back in stock, but you have to get up pretty early to fool me these days, so it will be arriving by way of some poor courier who has to lug it up the steps. Courier, if you are reading this, I owe you a beer. Please write your selection, along with an angry note about how much shit of mine you have had to drag up those fucking steps, in my mailbox, and I will do my best to accommodate.
Anyway, this beer smells pretty good. It looks pretty dark, on account of I have all the lights off or dimmed because it's so fucking hot. Clearish red-amber with small bubbles. What did you expect? If you are the type of person (not that I believe in 'types' of person) who wants to stare at their beer all day (okay, I believe in
this type of person, but I hope to never encounter them), then I don't understand you and you should probably quit reading now. So the smell is sour and a little funky, like tart cherries and red currants or lingonberries.
And, as most things that humans consume, it tastes a lot like it smells. It's pretty decently balanced, but it's got a big wild yeast kick, and I want to say Brettanomyces. Speaking of kick, the music I'm listening to just hit the point where the compressor goes crazy, and it feels like your brain is trying to escape your skull on the downbeat, via your ears, but somehow in a way that's not wholly unpleasant. Anyway, it's sour, and has a definitely apple cider vinegar component, but it's not bad. It's more sour that way than you'd expect from "Flanders Red Ale," and especially from one that's aged in oak (Pinot Noir barrels) for 18 months. Which incidentally, is not super-evident to me, but I'd have to have them side-by-side, I suppose. Should've thought of that at the store, I guess.
The texture is pretty nice, the carbonation is brisk, and I'm assuming it's bottle conditioned or else the other bottle of this languishing in my luxurious beer cellar (I rent a locker in a climate/humidity-controlled subterranean 12" concrete bunker, and if this sounds awesome to you as well, hit me up. I get a referral bonus. And this blog is strictly non-profit. No ads, or if there are any, you should block them. They don't pay me, and to be honest, even in a stream-of-conscious format, I'm pretty sure I spend more time writing this blog than its collective readership spends reading it, combined. Which says something about me, and also about you, and I'm trying to work out whether either statement is complimentary. Or complementary?)
Some of the elevation in language on this blog, I should note, is due to my sixth-grade English teacher, into whom I ran (I don't make the grammar rules, I just follow 'em) whilst waiting for breakfast last month. Not that I waited the entire month. Anyway, she asked if I was still writing, and insisted that I ought to be, and this poor blog was the only example I could muster. So if you are reading, yes—I am still writing! And trying to read more Hunter S. Thompson. And occasionally starting sentences with conjunctions. My school psychologist from the time was there as well, as was my sixth grade math teacher (yes, all these truly wonderful people still find time to keep up with each other, and with me!), so if either of you are reading, cheers to you as well!
As the beer warms, it mellows out a bit, but the lingering mouth-coating aftertaste means you'll want a glass of water handy. Though many of the popular sours du jour have this character, I'm not going to let that convince me it's good. I once spoke with a beer rep (whose name and affiliation will be omitted, like every other relevant detail on this blog) who noted that Cantillon once made great beer, but once demand spiked, their quality dropped and the beers turned to essentially vinegar. I hadn't had 'old' Cantillon, but for the new stuff, I agree wholeheartedly with his assesment. He further said that this vinegar beer was associated with their famous, popular name, and that neophytes assumed that this is what 'good' sour beer ought to taste like, hence proliferation of vinegar beer.
In conclusion, this beer is good: more sour (and funky) than I'd expect from a Flanders Red, and expensive, but not criminally so. Cheaper than a St. Bon Chien. And local! I'll either save or trade my other bottle, but I'm not rushing back to the overpriced grocery store for another any time soon.
Editor's Note: I consumed the other bottle around 9 months later and it was great.
